September 20th, 2006

bear by san

How to cut down on the homeless problem.

This is not just about me, but I've just been reminded of it by a couple of people mentioning some challenges finding Blood & Iron (which has gone back for a second printing, as previously noted, and so should be available for orders, if, yanno, you still want to read it.):

If an author you like has a book you want, and you go to the bookstore, and the bookstore is out?

Please, please, please ask them to order you a copy. (If they still claim they can't get it, and you know it's in print, try another bookstore, or head online.)

Because for bookstores to be re-ordering books is very beneficial to your hard-working writer pals. Re-orders, to hypersimplify, translate to the distributor or corporate headquarters or who-ever as consumer interest, which means that not only will the current book stay in print longer, but the next book may see a larger initial order, which translates (multiplied times a few thousand bookstores) into more copies on the shelves, which (assuming the book doesn't suck) may mean more sales, which means the author's next book stands a better chance of getting picked up, which means less net chance of the writer starving in a cardboard box with her faithful cat.

You have this power. End auctorial homelessness now.

(Yes, it really is that precarious of a business. And when you're talking about a hardcover or a trade paperback, for a genre or mid-list writer or God Forbid a mid-list genre writer (unless that genre be Romance) a few thousand copies actually make a big difference.)
bear by san

confessions of a would-be cat lady

Updated short fiction publication list.

Things to do in 2006 & the first part of 2007:

long things:

Revise By the Mountain Bound (done except those two short scenes I need to have wrote)*
Revise Undertow per pending editorial direction
Revise The Stratford Man and The Journeyman Devil if it proves necessary to do so
Dust proposal
Write Dust
Page proofs for Whiskey & Water
CEM for Undertow
Page proofs for Undertow
Rewrite the rest of All the Windwracked Stars (This, being the equivalent of writing a Whole New Book from an outline, will wait for a while, thank you, and possibly until the proposal sells.)*
Revise The Sea thy Mistress, including adding plot thread ripped from By the Mountain Bound*

*sell this series.

short things:

Things I need to write:

An untitled novella scheduled for Galactic Empires, 2008, Gardner Dozois, ed.

(no first line yet, or even title)

A novella and a novelette I owe to Bill Schafer, "Chatoyant" and "Lumière"

^ "Chatoyant"

"Chatoyant, said of a mineral's luster: 'containing numerous threadlike inclusions, aligned to produce catseye figures with reflected light.'"

^ "Lumière"

On a fine May morning in 1903, Abigail Irene Garrett boarded an airship bound from New Amsterdam to Paris, via Koln.
It was an act of naked treason.

"1796," dammit, no, Jay, I still haven't forgotten.

Mrs. John Adams looked to her sewing.

Things I want to write:

"Orm the Beautiful"

Orm the Beautiful would never die. But neither would he live much longer.


No first line yet.

"Dark on Wednesdays"

The Tower of Babylon rose through the veil of transplanted jungle foliage and piped-in orchid scent to scrape a desert sky burned almost colorless by the Nevada sun. Visible the entire length of the Las Vegas Strip, it collapsed in fire and fury six times daily, six days a week, wind conditions permitting.

For a premium, you could ride it down.

"The Death of Terrestrial Radio"

The first word was meant to be spoken quietly, if it should ever be spoken at all. 

* "King Pole, Gallows Pole, Bottle Tree"

The ghosts of the dam always come in the summer.

* "On Safari in R'lyeh and Carcosa with Gun and Camera"

"We wouldn't be having this problem if you'd flunked Algebra."

* "Black is the Color"

Along the north bank of the River Clyde, the oblong cobbles were glazed with sunrise light. The thump of music from a barge-turned nightclub had ended hours earlier. There was left only silence and the morning chill.

And a white stallion's hunger.

(and two bonus stories, because of course I was starting to get caught up and my brain gave me more.)

"Upon Deaf Ears"

"How would you define yourself?"


He was a better ghost than he'd been a man.

(I wonder if this goes with the fragment I've had kicking about for years about the smiling murderer?)


And that is my to-do list for a while.

Also, I should clean the apartment. And catch up on some of this reading. And the critiques. And go to the gym. And eat something today, as I forgot last night.
bear by san


When I went to put Monday night's denuded chicken corpse in the freezer, I discovered that said freezer was already inhabited by four denuded chicken corpses stuffed into heavy-duty ziplock bags, arrayed like set-dressing from a version of The Birds crossed with Raiders of the Lost Ark in the mines of Moria as detailed by Sideshow WETA.

End result: I am making that chicken stock today. Happy accident: one of the cadavers was apparently from a forty-clove chicken that I forgot to unstuff before I froze, so it is really wonderful-smelling chicken stock, with lumps of garlic floating in the froth.

I have come to the horrible realization that the wolf-boy may sound like Leonard Cohen, but he looks a bit like hal_duncan, if Hal were ten years older and had an ass-length braid.

Sorry, Hal.

In my defense, I met him first. So I think you're tuckerized from him.

telepresence is going to hell for this:


Oh, my god. That's Courteney Cox??? (I'm going to be going "blinker, mirror, blindspot; blinker, mirror, blindspot) all damned day, now.

Don't you like me better when I'm not taking a day off?

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bear by san

Fly, you fools!

makoiyi said a very true thing about writing over in her comments recently:

I ain't gonna get it right as long as I am thinking like me

The odd thing about having been sucked into watching '80's videos (mostly Grace Jones and The Art of Noise) on YouTube is that... it's work. Specifically, a major thread in Undertow relates to one of the creepier realities of the information age. Specifically, that the Internet Is Forever. (Something I'm reminded of every time the "You might be a gamer if--" list comes back to me in forwarded email. *g*)

And here it is in action.

Also, "Pull Up To My Bumper"? Is still just as dirty as it ever was.

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Man, that was a weird decade.

Okay, I promise to stop spamming livejournal now.